The Dogfighter
by Marshmellows and Mittens
Summary: She was the slickest ace fighter he'd ever seen. She'd shot down so many Nazis it was hard to count. She'd waited for her chance to go to Japan, but it never came. She just kept shooting down Nazis. When she was shot down, she had left a small arsenal of letters for a single man she'd fought with during the Battle of the Bulge.
1. Letter 1

**_Title:_**

_The Dogfighter_

**_Summary:_**

_She was the slickest ace fighter he'd ever seen. She'd shot down so many Nazis it was hard to count. She'd waited for her chance to go to Japan, but it never came. She just kept shooting down Nazis._

_When she was shot down, she had left a small arsenal of letters for a single man she'd fought with during the Battle of the Bulge._

* * *

Alrightly,

I haven't been writing much lately and it's been killing me, so I've decided to make some sort one-shots about America and an OC I randomly made up while writing some other WWII fanfiction.

Enjoy please,

Mellow-chan

**WARNING!: Human names used and a slight America x OC pairing. Character death.**

* * *

_Letter #1_

_To: Alfred F. Jones of the 101th Air Force_

_From: Gnocchi Borrelli of the 17th Air Force_

* * *

**Dear Al,**

**...**

**Damn! Damn, damn, damn, damnit all ta hellllllllll!**

**Now that I'm actually writing all this shit down all I can think of is how stupid this is.**

**Damn.**

**I don't know what to say.**

**Grrrrr... I guess all start with this:**

**I want to let you know I really liked ya. **

**Thanks for keeping my secret-and I really liked you.**

* * *

The first time Alfred had seen "Gabriel" Borrelli, he'd been in Germany.

He'd walked in on the 'guy' while 'he' was taking a bath in a stream.

Only to find that 'he' wasn't really a 'he'.

* * *

Alfred's face was red the rest of the day.

Damn, that woman could slap a guys face pretty hard.

Or maybe that was because she was so damn pretty...

Alfred buried his face in his hands.

"_Oh Lord,"_

Alfred had banged his head against a tree the rest of the day.

* * *

When _she_ had found him doing so she punched him in the solar plexus.

"_Idiot! What if the Germans had fucking decided to attack while you were banging you head against this poor tree?!"_

_Damn, Damn_, he'd thought, _she's gonna kill me._

The woman's green eyes narrow in on him, scanning him up and down before she stuck her hand out while grinning.

_"My name is Gabriella Borrelli of the 17th Air Force. Just call me Gnocchi."_

Her big green eyes met his blue ones and Alfred had to force himself to breath.

_"Alfred F. Jones of the 101th Air Force. Call me Al."_

* * *

_She had to stand on her toes to ruffle his hair, but she did._

_When she did, Alfred almost fainted._

_Damn._

_Someone should put warning labels on Italian women, 'cause man, can they give a guy a heart attack._

* * *

**Speaking of secrets Al, why didn't you ever tell me yours?**

**Remember?**

**You promised me you would... so why...?**

**Anyway, anyway, I have to stop writing 'cause all the guys are teasing me about being a Momma's boy and how I supposedly must write to my dearest Madre Borrelli.**

**As if!**

**If anything, I'm a Daddy's girl.**

**Got it?**

**Good.**

**Arrivederci,**

**Gnocchi**~

* * *

Ciaooooo~

I hope you folks enjoyed, and I didn't plan for it to be this short, so I'm going to make it muti-chaptered.

Thank you for reading, and please share your thoughts~

God Bless,

Mellow-chan


	2. Letter 2

**Title:**

_The Dogfighter_

**Summary:**

_She was the slickest ace fighter he'd ever seen. She'd shot down so many Nazis it was hard to count. She'd waited for her chance to go to Japan, but it never came. She just kept shooting down Nazis._

_When she was shot down, she had left a small arsenal of letters for a single man she'd fought with during the Battle of the Bulge._

* * *

I'm back with another Letter from Miss Gnocchi Borrelli, so I hope you'll take the time to read it!

Ciao~

Mellow-chan

**Warning!: Coarse language, slight OCC-ness, Human name used, and very little narrating...**

* * *

_Letter #2_

_To: Alfred F. Jones of the 101th Air Force_

_From: Gnocchi Borrelli of the 17th Air Force_

* * *

**Dearest Alfred,**

**...**

**I'm still not sure what to write.**

**It's like putting down useless bullshit on paper and then saying it's something special. I don't like being hypocritical, and I don't like useless things, Al. **

**That's why I stole your uniform star to put on mine! Mwhahahaha~!**

**Anyway, how are things going in England? Have you helped the Brits out at all? Does it look like a disaster zone? I've got so many questions you need to answer when I see you again.**

**Do you have a new best pal?**

**Or am I still the bestest pal of best pals in the whole wide universe?**

* * *

Alfred took to the girl's quirkiness faster than he'd like to admit.

She was funny in ways he didn't know funny was possible...

See a stick in the middle of the camp?

Simply pick it up and proclaim it's holiness, then chase people with said stick.

(_"If they're no fun, just poke 'em in the ass,"_  
Gnocchi told him quite seriously as she poked some poor guy in the ass with the stick 'cause he was being a, get this, he was being a-  
_"Stick in the mud!"...  
**-Silence.-  
**__"Get it? Yeah? Yeah?... Okay, it wasn't very funny in the first place, but still-!")_

Plane blown up by the Nazi's?

_"Give it a funeral!"_-is what a certain Italian-American would say. She would then throw remnants of the plane into a hole she had dug a few seconds earlier and say a prayer.

She would always be laughing.

Alfred was starting to believe that she wasn't capable of crying.

* * *

He was really, really wrong when he said that.

He saw her on her knees crying her eyes out in the middle of a field hospital, he knew he was so so very wrong.

Her pal, Donnie Loro, had died in the hospital after receiving a fatal blow from a German mortar, and tears were silently flowing from her eyes as she clutched his already dead hand. The sounds of screaming resounded throughout the field hospital, and Gnocchi stood up, walked over to one of the patients beds, grabbed theier blood bowl, and threw the contents onto the grass outside. She turned on her heels briskly, with a grim face, and when back into the screams within the large overhead tent.

She spend the rest of the day assisting the medics, and didn't even take a moment to look as her pal-Donnie-boy, as she called him- was taken away to be buried. She was more concerned about to people she could save, and were still alive, then to mourn over those who were already dead. Alfred was impressed and so-

He helped her with the grueling work, and was astonished to see that she wasn't at all phased by the blood and missing limbs, and missing faces, or the blood poring out of fresh wounds, or the screams of pure, pure, tortured _agony_ each soldier would scream with when they would amputate a limb.

Alfred nearly lost his sanity.

He was surprised how she could laugh the next day when he could barely think without throwing up...

And he was four hundred years old...

* * *

**Dear Lord, Jesus Christ, Mary, and Joseph, I sound like a little brat, don't I?**

**Man, man, I'm really sorry about that, Al.**

**I just wanna know, cause it really doesn't seem like we're winning the war over here. So many people are dying, and it pains me to see all those poor boys dying like dogs on the battle field.**

**I'm tired of war, Al.**

**We've all been fighting for way too long.**

**Yeah, I get that we're all saying that we're fighting for ice cream, and democracy, and all that bullshit, but I'm just fighting for the buddy that might die beside me if I don't.**

**Al, I don't feel like fighting very much if all my buddies are all dying, you know?**

**...Anyway, this is soldier Borrelli signing off,**

**Bye,**

**Gnocchi**

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed it!_

_Love,_

_Mellow-chan._


	3. Letter 3

**Title:**

_The Dogfighter_

**Summary:**

_She was the slickest ace fighter he'd ever seen. She'd shot down so many Nazis it was hard to count. She'd waited for her chance to go to Japan, but it never came. She just kept shooting down Nazis._

_When she was shot down, she had left a small arsenal of letters for a single man she'd fought with during the Battle of the Bulge._

* * *

_Letter #3_

_To: Alfred F. Jones of the 101th Air Force_

_From: Gnocchi Borrelli of the 17th Air Force_

* * *

**My Most Favorite Alfred,**

**Don't you find it weird that we're now apart of the infantry when we're supposed to be in the air force? I mean, I miss my Thunderbird, and I really, really miss soaring in the air, and being so close to the sky at the same time...**

**Why did they have to transfer us to the army? I loved the air force, but they sent me here, and I feel like I'm sort of useless to all these seasoned fox-holers... Did you feel this way too? We never really talked about it, but now that someone in my Company is demanding I dig my foxhole ASAP, I can't help but feel for our poor boys in the front, cause they must be hurtin' so much...**

**Al, do you think we'll be the ones dying on the front one day? Will anyone ever remember the poor boys on the front, dying every second of the day?**

**I'm sorry that this letter is so depressing, but Al, will anyone remember?**

**Will they?**

* * *

Gnocchi was always a very self-depreciating kind of person, and Alfred really didn't like that aspect about her.

She told him, once, that she had first signed up for the Air Force in hopes of being shot down the first day of battle, and never having to experience war ever again. He'd been livid for the rest of the conversation, Alfred remembered.

"Why on earth would you ever _want to die?_ Are you just naturally insane, Gnocchi?!"

She laughed at him, commenting on how red his face was, and Alfred recalled how he'd crossed his arms, glaring at her. She simply ruffled his air, saying, "I know I'm Catholic and everything, but seeing that Germany and Italy are both the most Catholic countries in the world, I'm starting to lose faith in humanity. I don't want to live in such a horrible world anymore."

Alfred paused for a moment. He was protestant, when he thought about it, but he never outwardly expressed his faith. Gnocchi, on the other hand, never had to say what religion she was, because you could tell just by looking at her go about her day. It was the first time she had verbally said she was Catholic, but Alfred felt like he already knew, somehow.

He saw the Italian girl sigh and she stood up to stretch.

"But I realize that if we don't stop these atrocious hypocrites, who will? If I don't fight, will the guy next to me die? Will you die? Will my family die? Now that I think about it, isn't this what the Germans are thinking? _If I don't fight, will Hitler kill my wife? My kids? My parents? Brothers, sisters, friends?_" She looked up that the sky. "What are we really fighting for? To stop a maniac? Or to stop the slaughter of the Jewish, Polish, and Russian P.O.W.s?"

"I think the Germans have it much worse than us. They're fighting for they're lively hood. For they're physical being." She paused before adding,"Except Hilter and the S.S. They don't care about what the people are fighting for, they just want the power. They're all bastards that deserve to die horrible deaths."

Alfred stared at her.

"Then, what are you fighting for, Gnocchi?"

She answered, "I'm fighting for you and everyone else here. Don't die okay? It's why I'm fighting."

_"-And if I die, just remember I was alive, okay?"_

* * *

**Oh, who am I kidding?**

**You'll remember me, won't cha, Al?**

**You never seemed like the kind of person to just forget, so I won't worry; I know you'll remember. **

**And I'll remember you too, okay?**

**Signing off,**

**Gnocchi Borrelli**

* * *

Hope you enjoyed, and have a wonderful day~,

Mellow-chan


	4. Letter 4

**Title:**

_The Dogfighter_

**Summary:**

_She was the slickest ace fighter he'd ever seen. She'd shot down so many Nazis it was hard to count. She'd waited for her chance to go to Japan, but it never came. She just kept shooting down Nazis._

_When she was shot down, she had left a small arsenal of letters for a single man she'd fought with during the Battle of the Bulge._

* * *

_Letter #4_

_To: Alfred F. Jones of the 101st Air Force_

_From: Gnocchi Borrelli of the 17th Air Force_

* * *

**Al,**

**Did it ever occur to you, or anyone else, that we've only been at war for three years, when Europe, Canada, and France (I'm rethinking writting this one down) have been at war for over five? It bothers me. Maybe it bothers you too, but I can't help but wonder how this all started in the first place.**

**I think it was Versailles. **

**It had to be.**

**Where else could all this have started?**

**I've been thinking a lot lately.**

**Does that bother you?**

**It certainly bothers me.**

**Al, all of this nonsense, Germany, Hitler, Dictators in general; they all seem to be ruling our thoughts right now.**

**You know, I met the sweetest, most wonderful German man the other day while I was giving out orders to the German POW's. He had brown hair, and green eyes, and the loveliest laugh you'd ever hear. **

**He kinda reminded me of you-the only difference was, you actually _look_ like a German.**

**Imagine that, huh?**

* * *

Gnocchi told him the other day that if people were classified to a nationality by the way they looked, then she was Spanish. She was very offended at how people cared about if they _looked_ like they were from a certain country, or religion.

She had said:

"I don't care if you're purple, green, or blue! If you've got a brain and a birth certificate, then you're American!"

He, and all the other boys had laughed at this statement, but she snorted, looking very distressed about the topic.

"I'm being serious!" She had exclaimed loudly. "Gui!" The man sitting next to Alfred snapped his head to face Gnocchi as she tugged at her short hair. "Are you Mexican?"

The ebony haired man's face turned red at the statement as he shot up from the ground snarling,"Gnocchi, you bastard that's one sick joke, you know!"

The woman shrugged as a smirk of approval tugged at her lips. "Oh, so it's not alright for you to get angry at me for calling you Mexican when you're Italian, but it's alright to call an Austrian a German cause they look the same?"

All the men feel silent, and looked at their feet. Everyone besides Alfred.

"Gnocchi, why the hell do you care so much?" He asked, quite unamused with his best pal's recent spit-fire attitude.

Her green eyes narrowed on his blue ones, and Alfred felt a shiver go through his whole body as she stared at him. Gnocchi laced her fingers together, and rested her forearms on her muscled thighs, and she puffed a short burst of air from her mouth.

"Your all idiots. You realize that's why we're fighting, right? The Germans said that the Czechs and the Poles were German too, so they invaded their country. Now, they're not wrong, but, the Czechs and the Poles didn't want that. The U.S. is fighting cause Japan's a douche and wanted to knock us out for good. Germany doesn't like us because we're "capitalist pigs". Same with the Soviet Union."

She paused her oration to look at the sky, saying:

" Think about it- if we all didn't care about how we look; if vanity, pride, and prejudice didn't exist, do you really think we would have to be fighting right now?"

Her eyes drifted back onto Earth for a second, and she looked at each of the men there earnestly.

"Think about it, would ya?"

* * *

Gnocchi had been walking through a battlefield the next day with her bible and rosary, saying the Lord's Prayer, and muttering decades of the rosary. Alfred accompanied her, as he always did, and found that she skipped over no one.

If they came across a blown up Sherman, she would say five Lord's Prayer, if she came across a Tiger, she would do the same.

To her, it didn't matter if they were American, British, French, Canada, or German; they were all human to her, and that's all she need to know.

Gnocchi would mutter once over so often-

"Bless your souls, each and every one of you poor boys. You probably had gals at home waiting. Family, friend. Look... Look at what we've all done to you..."

Then, she would go quiet, her mouth still, as if she were sending a silent plea up to the Lord Himself, and she would make her way back to base camp. By the time she got back, it was as if the hadn't seen the mutilated corpses that were just a half-miles walk outside camp.

Alfred knew why-

She never let what she saw dim her believe in God. She prayed every night, morning, before going out on missions, before she did anything, she was praying. Then again, so was everyone else. Even if they didn't like to admit it, non of them would be where they were if they hadn't prayer to someone up there at least once while they were running in a blurry haze of machine gun bullets. They all knew that if you hadn't ever prayed before coming, you were damn sure to start before you left, or you didn't leave at all.

The only protection you had on the battle field was yourself, your friends, and whatever divine sort of mercy the Lord was willing to give you.

Alfred knew that.

So, he started praying with Gnocchi, even though he knew he wasn't gonna die in this war... He felt it, and it gave him an ounce, merely an ounce, of courage to keep going. It was ease to keep going actually-

_It just wasn't his time yet, after all._

* * *

**This man had a wife, and four kids, Al. He told me he had married a beautiful woman from Milan, and that their children didn't look German at all, but since he was in the military, the Nazis wouldn't -couldn't- touch his family.**

**He told me that it was better for him to die a Nazi that for his family to die on the gallows.**

**Al, Al, Al, Al, do you understand that this man is dead now?**

**Do you understand that this is life now?**

**That all I can possibly do for that man now if pray, pray, and pray some more for his soul not to be damned to hell like mine and everyone else fighting here? -And then, I have to go out and kill every German that might kill me, but who might also have a family waiting?**

**No one else seems to get that around here, so I have to put my faith in the intelligent head of yours and trust that you get what I'm saying.**

**If you don't, I don't know who will.**

**Signing off,**

**Gnocchi Borrelli**


	5. Letter 5

**Title:**

_The Dogfighter_

**Summary:**

_She was the slickest ace fighter he'd ever seen. She'd shot down so many Nazis it was hard to count. She'd waited for her chance to go to Japan, but it never came. She just kept shooting down Nazis._

_When she was shot down, she had left a small arsenal of letters for a single man she'd fought with during the Battle of the Bulge._

* * *

Whazzup?

Heya, Hiya, I'mma back-a and horrible at Italiano accents!

Enjoy-a would ya?

Ciao. Ciao. Arrivederci~

Mellow-can

* * *

_Letter #5_

_To: Alfred F. Jones of the 101st Air Force_

_From: Gnocchi Borrelli of the 17th Air Force_

* * *

**Jones,**

**It's been awhile since I've written to you.**

**Sorry.**

**I've been super busy, and I'm trying not to get myself kill by daydreaming about what I'm gonna write you next.**

**You know, I've been thinking that I should probably send you the other couple of letters I keep hidden in my infantry bag, but I want to give them to you myself, you know? Kinda selfish, I've gotta admit, but forgive me, okay?**

**I'm not really sure why I'm writing to you right now, but all I really know is that you… I … I'm just sorta down in the dumps right now, you know?**

**Gui, Charlie and Norman died the other day, and I'm just so sad now, Al.**

**Where ever you are, you're not dead too, right?**

**Please, please don't let me be the psychopath that's writing to dead guys, Al. Please be safe. Please. I'm begging you, because I don't know if I can stay sane much longer. I feel like I'm just gonna blow my top every second longer I stay in this god-forsaken land, and it hurts. God damn it hurt so much. It hurts to see your pals die. It hurts to see refugees-women, children, old men- walking the roads, with smoke arising from the distance, and then you realize-**

**Oh.**

_**Oh.**_

**That smoke's their houses. The places where they were born and raise. Where they grew up, got married, had kids, spent holiday, and now, it's just gone, Al.**

**Everything they ever knew, gone.**

* * *

America had seen Gnocchi in her darkest days. When she would curl up a ball and whisper prayers for the whole night and not speak to a soul the next day.

Those days scared him.

It made him realize how fragile the human mind was, and how hard everyone there was trying to keep just a smidgen of whatever sanity they had left. Gnocchi, well, she tried harder than everyone else, mostly because if she didn't, she would be the first on to get on the looney train.

Gnocchi had told him once that she tried not to let the things she saw actually register in her mind, because if they did, she was afraid that they would never leave.

"_Look, but never understand_," was what she said. She told him she would worry about if after the war. After everyone had finished killing each other. Then she would understand, then she would search for the truth.

"But for now," she said, "I'm just trying to get home in one piece. Physically and mentally, Al."

Maybe that was why she had those depressing days, Alfred had concluded once, to protect herself. She would drown in herself for a day, and then she would come back bright eyed and bushy tailed the next day.

That was the only theory Alfred had, and probably the only one he would ever have.

* * *

"Alfred," Gnocchi chirped happily one day as she peeled a potato she'd found not to long before that. "What does the F. stand for?"

The blonde shrugged while he munched on his ration bar, "I dunno."

The brunette jutted her bottom lip out at him, and Alfred chuckled heartily while saying,"If you keep you lip out like that, a bird might make its nest on you lip!"

Gnocchi immediately stuck her lip back to its proper place as she folded her arms. "Well, you're no fair, Al."

He gave her on odd look, "Am I supposed to be nice?"

Gnocchi just huffed at him. Al laughed.

"Freedom."

Gnocchi raise a slender eyebrow at the blonde as she tilted her head at a perfect 15 degrees.

"Come again?"

"_Freedom_."

The Italian girl smiled at him, amused by the declaration. She crossed her legs and leaned forward.

"Your middle name is much better than mine."

* * *

Alfred later learned that her middle name was, "Morte".

Her middle name literally just meant, "Death".

* * *

**Will this how it'll be if we don't win?**

**Is this scene in Germany what the world'll be like if we don't fight?**

**It scares me Al.**

**I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm so so so so so so so so so so so so scared.**

**...**

**Sorry.**

**Sorry, I... I just... Sorry.**

**I'm just being a PMS-ing bitch at the moment, and I'm sorry about it, Al. Please don't let my negative self get to you.**

**Your Stupid Pal,**

**Gnocchi**


	6. Letter 6

**_Title:_**

_The Dogfighter_

* * *

**_Summary:_**

_She was the slickest ace fighter he'd ever seen. She'd shot down so many Nazis it was hard to count. She'd waited for her chance to go to Japan, but it never came. She just kept shooting down Nazis._

_When she was shot down, she had left a small arsenal of letters for a single man she'd fought with during the Battle of the Bulge._

* * *

_Letter #6_

_To: Alfred F. Jones of the 101st Air Force_

_From: Gnocchi Borrelli of the 17th Air Force_

* * *

**Hello…**

**I'm running out of things to write, Al.**

**It's so predictable here.**

**You wake up, you scrounge around for food. Then, you go on border patrol, come back, then go to the front line and help out with the fighting. You pray you won't die, and then you do it all over again.**

**Alfred, this thing keeps dragging on and on, and it pains me to wake up, knowing that we're so close to winning, but… but we just can't reach it yet.**

**I really don't understand why all of this happened in the first place.**

**They say it was because of the Austrian-Hungarian fellow that got assassinated thirty years ago in the Great War, but I'm pretty sure it's cause of us.**

**I've heard stories of the Treaty of Versailles, and how horrible we, Great Britain, France, and the U.S., how utterly terrible we were to Germany, how awful we were to Italy and Japan, even though they were our allies.**

**Is it all true?**

**Could have all of this been avoided?**

**Could we, the Allies, have stopped all this madness if a couple of world leaders had just slap a few people in the face, and made an actual treaty instead of a punishment list for Germany?**

**Well?**

**Answer me, Al.**

**God damnit, answer me.**

**Please.**

* * *

Alfred glanced out of his window, staring out at the pouring rain that was occurring outside in London, England.

It was over.

Well, at least the War in Germany.

He still had to fight the war in the Pacific.

Arthur Kirkland, who was sitting just across from the young nation, was talking with France, Canada, Russia, and the innumerable amount of other countries that had participated in the war.

All of them were discussing what Germany should have to pay this time around.

Alfred tore his eyes away from the rain outside, and to the German man, and Italian men sitting just across from the Allied nations.

Is this a dream? He asked himself.

Is this it?

Is it all over?

Alfred stood up in a clamor, tears pricking at his eyes, his lips trembling.

"Would you all shut up already? You stupid, stupid Europeans. You started all of this. You. All of you." Alfred stared holes into the blonde German across from him, who flinched, then to France and Britain, who also flinched. Alfred combed his hand through his hair, and moaned. "What am I here for? Am I here to clean up your messes? You guys, oh, you guys, if you'd listened to me before all this, we wouldn't be doing any of this right now." Alfred huffed. "But no. America's just a child he knows nothing of our suffering. He knows nothing of war. Nothing at all."

Alfred glancing at the ceiling, suddenly quite interested in the design of said ceiling.

"I've already made my ideas know. If you need to look them over again, they're in the manilla folder on top of the dresser over there."

Alfred walked out of the room while the eyes of all the countries in the room were directly on him.

* * *

**Alfred-** [The paper here was stained with a dark brown rust color. Most likely blood.]- **I'm sorry.**

**Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-** [The writing became increasingly erratic, and the words became so blotched with stains that it was unreadable.]

**Hey, I'm dying, Al….I…war….….. again…..….never….….sure…..please…..happen…...never again.**

**Live for me, do the things I couldn't, please.**

**See this thing through.**

**The Almost Dead,**

**Gnocchi-**[The 'i' of this name stretched halfway down the the page, and a long stain was right next to it.]

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_[In the attic of an old, old Victorian Mansion in rural upstate Maryland, there's an old box, worn with age, and sitting in the back of this old house's attic. This box has six letters, all addressed to on Alfred F. Jones._

_If you were to open this box to inspect the letters inside of it, you would find that they too were all worn down and very old._

_If you were to look at the last letter, you'd discover that if you would look close enough, that the ink was smeared next to the rusty stains._

_If you looked close enough, you would see that they were tear stains._

_Upon closer inspection, you'd see that the tear stains looked considerably younger than the blood stains. You'd know they most certainly were not made by the writer.]_


	7. Please Read!

Hello.

I'm sorry, this isn't an update, but I really would like to ask a huge favor for everyone reading, and I know it might sound odd for me to ask you for something, but please, _please_, listen!

One of my good friends got into a really bad golf cart accident, and they (the doctors) say she had less than two day to live, and that... well, it just breaks my heart.

This girl so so beautiful, and so utterly nice and funny and kind, and I really can't imagine a world without her.

Please, anyone reading this, can you please pray from her?

Her name's Maeve Giardina, so please, send your prayer to her, because she needs them!

I would appreciate it so much.

May The Lord Bless You,

Mellow-chan


End file.
